


Two's Company

by doublecheese



Category: Blood of Zeus (Cartoon)
Genre: Anger Management, Attempt at Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, I guess?? Heron gets a little overwhelmed with Olympus's whole deal, Injury, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Social Anxiety, idk man as an eldest sibling i just have some feelings about heron :/, jus a lil bit just to lighten the mood, not a lot but there's a moment or two where Heron goes grrr, there's really not that much hurt it's mostly just them chattin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublecheese/pseuds/doublecheese
Summary: Heron had found it nice at first. The volume, the energy. It was all so different and new. The gods seemed to hold him in relatively high regard for the moment, even the ones that had sided with Hera. It was as though they had decided as a collective to forgive and forget. No hard feelings. Heron supposed that when you’re immortal you become adaptable, familiar to great upheaval. For the time being, Heron and his friends were welcome on Olympus.But at his core, Heron was accustomed to solitude.-----Heron is feeling some type of way about his new digs. Apollo does his best to be an older brother.
Relationships: Heron (Blood Of Zeus) & Apollo (Blood of Zeus)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 199





	Two's Company

**Author's Note:**

> hmm. never written a fanfic before but i couldn't stop thinking about how much has changed for Heron in such a short time. as i said: as an eldest sibling i just have some feelings about our dude Heron.

Heron marvels at the novelty of his swinging feet. 

He had found that there was a lot to marvel at on Olympus. So many beautiful courtyards to lounge in, so many extravagant dwellings. Heron had taken to wandering. The first courtyard he had been shown, where he had met his friends— _he has friends now_ —after waking, was the most frequented. The gods loved to linger there for hours. They loved to sit peacefully in the water, to gossip, to goad each other. To just exist with each other.

Heron had found it nice at first. The volume, the energy. It was all so different and new. The gods seemed to hold him in relatively high regard for the moment, even the ones that had sided with Hera. It was as though they had decided as a collective to forgive and forget. No hard feelings. Heron supposed that when you’re immortal you become adaptable, accustomed to great upheaval. For the time being, Heron and his friends were welcome on Olympus.

Evios and Kofi were basking in it. They adored the abundance of rich food and conversation. It warmed Heron to see them happy. Aside from Alexia, they were his first true friends. Alexia, too, was enjoying her time here. She had begun to spar with Hephaestus’s automations on their third day here and though Heron was yet still too injured to join, he itched for the time when he would be able to raise a sword with her. Or perhaps against her. 

But at his core, Heron was accustomed to solitude. He supposed that it was a product of the circumstances of his youth. The habit of loneliness was easy to develop when you only have your mother and an old man for company. 

_Only a father for company._

Sometimes the volume of the amassed gods became too much for Heron. The immensity of their presence, the weight of their very being made him long for the familiar quiet of the mountain he had grown up on. Sometimes it made him feel like he was being suffocated. It made him want to scream. 

So Heron had taken to wandering. 

He had found that in nearly every capacity Olympus was two things: large and extravagant. The waterfalls which connected the multi-storied mountain glistened like the stars. The grasses which surrounded the buildings shone bright like emeralds. Aside from the damages done in the war, the stone that made up the buildings was perfect. No cracks, no blemishes. Every aspect of Olympus enforced it’s opulence. 

He can’t really help feeling a bit angry at it all. It’s irrational, he knows this. But when he sees the elaborate sleeping chambers he thinks of the hard-packed dirt and dried-weed mattress which had made his mother's bones ache. When he sees the perfect, unblemished skin of the gods he thinks of the calluses on his hand and the blister scars on the soles of his feet. 

It is a selfish kind of anger; an anger inspired by a perceived injustice. How could they live like this when there are people out there who cannot even feed themselves? How could his father live with himself knowing that he had condemned Heron’s mother to a life devoid of riches and pleasures? It is a type of anger that Heron could lose himself in and so he does his best to let it go. 

He focuses on other things about Olympus instead. 

In his ventures, Heron had found that the gods loved courtyards. Lots of them. So many, in fact, that it seemed gratuitous. Many were private, just for specific gods, while others were open to anybody. Many were frequently vacant, though none looked untended. Heron had yet to see a servant or a gardener. He wondered if it was the work of Demeter. 

Something he found most fascinating was the sheer scale it had all been built to. The stairs around the grounds are spaced so far apart from each other that Heron had to take two steps on each one. Even when he jumped, he couldn’t touch the top of the doorways and even Kofi could only scrape them

And so, Heron sits in an empty courtyard and marvels at his swinging feet, all the while doing his best not to think about the display of affluence surrounding him. 

He had had to do a little hop to get up onto the bench, and the twinge in his injured chest had yet to fade. As they swing, the sandals he wears come off a little bit, creating a soft _thwack_ sound when they reconnect. 

He sighs and rubs at his chest. 

‘You know you shouldn’t really do that.’

Heron’s head jerks up and his eyes meet Apollo’s. He is leaning against a column directly across from where Heron is sitting. Heron has no idea how long he has been there. 

‘I’m a medicine god. I know about these sorts of things.’ Apollo’s tone is bright with levity, but there is an intent behind the words that Heron cannot determine. 

‘I didn’t mean to. Wasn’t really paying attention.’ Gods, he sounds like a child. He supposes that he might as well be in comparison. 

Apollo chuckles and then comes to take a seat next to him. His feet firmly press against the limestone path. 

‘Let me have a look,’ Apollo says, angling his torso towards Heron. 

Heron takes just a second too long to begin moving and Apollo becomes impatient, firmly grasping him by the left shoulder and turning him to face Apollo head on. Heron quickly crosses his legs before they can become a tangled mess.

‘Right then, brother. How do you expect to heal if you keep fidgeting your wounds?’ Heron would never have dared describe Apollo as fussy before now, but with the way he was undoing Heron’s bandages and prodding at the scabbed over gash, Heron would risk it. 

‘I really don’t think it’s that bad.’ Heron tries, but then Apollo levels him with a stare. 

‘You stabbed yourself through.’ Apollo raises an eyebrow. ‘With a godly weapon.’

‘Uh. Yes.’

‘And you don’t think it’s that bad?’

‘Well I mean—’

‘Hush, little brother.’ Says Apollo voice amused, still prodding. Heron hushes.

It is several minutes later, after Apollo had turned Heron around and inspected his back just as thoroughly, that Apollo seems satisfied. Heron wonders if his prodding is magical but decides it's probably best not to ask. 

Apollo turns him around again, so that they are facing, and summons several long strips of cloth into his lap, vanishing the dirty bandages concurrently. 

Apollo begins to rewrap his wounds, and Heron feels as though he should be saying something but he doesn’t quite know what.

‘So what were you brooding over?’

Heron one again finds himself surprised. 

‘What do you mean?’

Apollo sniggers. 

‘You’re sitting in a rarely frequented garden all by yourself and staring dramatically at your own feet. You expect me to believe you weren't brooding?’

‘I don’t—I wasn’t brooding. I don’t brood.’

Apollo scoffs.

‘All good heroes brood.’

And then Apollo is pushing him around so he is once again facing away. Feeling a little petulant at the man-handling Heron crosses his arms. And then uncrosses them when Apollo gives him a light whack so that he can continue to bandage him.

Heron is gripped with the sudden desire to prove Apollo wrong and he begins to speak before he can really think about it. 

‘Look, I wasn’t brooding. It’s just that—’

Heron cuts himself off and is very glad that he is facing away from him because looking at him while maintaining his composure right now would be very difficult. Apollo continues to bandage him, only letting out a small hum to encourage Heron to continue. It takes him a few moments, but he manages to unstick his throat enough to finish his thought. 

‘Well, it’s all a bit much, isn’t it?’

Apollo gives him a gentle pat on the back and Heron feels him pull away slightly. He takes that as his cue that Apollo is done and turns around again. He has to crane his neck back to look Apollo in the eye.

‘What do you mean?’ Apollo’s voice is gentle and Heron suddenly doesn’t want to be facing him anymore. He shuffles so that his feet once again dangle over the side of the bench. 

‘There are so many of you here. And you’re all so loud. And everything is so bright. And all the food tastes good.’

He can see out of the corner of his eye that Apollo has lent his weight back on his hands and cocked his head at him. His voice is once again amused when he says:

‘So your problem is that everything here is nice?’

Heron’s eyes widen.

‘No! No, not at all. It’s lovely. Everything here is lovely. It’s just… not what I’m used to.’

Heron thinks briefly of working far too long and far too hard in the mines only to not be able to afford dinner.

‘Ah. Well then, that’s understandable. An adjustment period is to be expected. Although your friends seem to be taking it well in stride.’ Apollo gives Heron’s shoulder a nudge with his own and Heron can’t help but smile. 

‘Is that why you’re out here then?’ Apollo continues, ‘To get away a bit?’

‘Yes. Just a bit.’

‘Well in that case, I am sorry to have bothered you.’ And then Apollo is standing and beginning to walk away and Heron is very aware of the fact that he doesn’t want him to go.

‘Wait!’ Heron drops to the stone floor and grits his teeth as it jars his wound. ‘You’re not bothering me. I enjoy your company.’

Apollo stops striding away and turns to look at him. Heron can’t puzzle out the expression on his face. His brows are furrowed but his mouth is straight and Heron worries briefly that he had said something wrong. Maybe he had been too honest. Was it weird to admit that he enjoyed a god's company? He didn’t know. No one had ever really taught him the etiquette of these sorts of things. 

Heron just stands there as Apollo gazes at him. Eventually his face softens. 

‘Okay, little brother. But I won’t allow you to jump back up onto that bench. Follow me.’

And then Apollo is striding past him and further into the little garden. Heron does his best to keep pace just behind him. Eventually Apollo veers off the stone path and onto the lavish grasses, leading them towards the thick row of hedges lining the garden. Behind the hedge is the perfectly jagged mountain side. 

Without breaking pace, Apollo walks directly at the hedge and with a small gesture, it parts before him. Behind it, is a cave. Apollo stops at the entrance, his back to the wall, and tilts his head in invitation to Heron, who had stopped walking when it had appeared that Apollo was about to face plant into a hedge.

As Heron passes into the cave, the hedges close behind him. The cave, it turns out, is not a cave, but rather a tunnel. Apollo begins to walk again and as he steps patterned indents carved into the walls and rocky floor begin to glow orange and gold. 

‘Would you like to know why that garden is so unpopular?’ 

Apollo isn’t looking at him, but Heron nods nonetheless when he replies, ‘Yes.’

‘Because it is one that Hephaestus favours.’

Heron opens his mouth to begin a question but before he can Apollo continues.

‘Hephaestus was… less than favoured by Hera. To associate too closely with him meant risking drawing her ire. As a bastard—’ Apollo chuckles, ‘—I was already subject to it. Here.’

The tunnel now opens up into a proper cave. It is not large or small but it is furnished with soft-looking couches. Animal skins and sturdy linens line the floor, the stone now smooth. There is a workbench parallel to the far wall, with room enough between for a person to stand. It is littered with metal bits and bobs. The orange glow which had lined the hallways spread up the walls and onto the roof, lighting the room. On a perch next to one of the couches, a brass owl’s eyes widen with the same light. 

‘I imagine he made this in a similar mind to you. I am not positive this place is a secret, but I know not many will bother coming here. If you wish, I could ask Hephaestus to give you access?’

‘I—’ Heron is rather taken aback. ‘That would be very kind of you.’

‘Hm.’ Is all Apollo says. And then he, rather inelegantly, drops down onto the couch next to the clockwork bird. 

Heron thinks about it for a moment but opts to carefully set himself a top one of the softer rugs. After a moment of sitting with his back straight, he lies down flat to look at the roof. 

They are quiet for a while and Heron peacefully traces the patterned glow of the carvings with his eyes. Then he has a thought which makes his lips tighten and his forehead wrinkle. He is quiet for a while longer as he decides whether or not it would be worth asking Apollo. His right hand unconsciously closes as he feels a familiar sense of reckless determination.

It is an effort to sit up without pulling his injury—something he really should have thought of before laying down—and by the time he is up Apollo has taken notice of his production. Heron forces himself to look him square on. 

‘What was it like growing up with your sister?’

Apollo’s eyes widen just a fraction. 

‘Ah. So this is what you were thinking of? Your brother?’

Heron shakes his head.

‘I see. Growing up with Artemis was—well, we were together. Nearly from the beginning. She helped birth me. I suppose that’s something we have in common, yes? We are the younger twin?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hm. Artemis and I did many things together and many things apart from each other. Together, we invented archery. While I was busy learning the lyre, she would stand for hours at the summits of mountains and just shoot arrows into the wind. She had a bit of a thing for mountains back then. I think she liked the drama of them, though she would never stand to admit that.’

Apollo stops talking then and looks meaningfully towards Heron, as though he expects him to say something. 

‘I like archery.’ Says Heron hesitantly. 

‘Hah. Yes. I am well aware. Hephaestus made me a bow and arrows once too, you know? Killed a big snake with them.’

They lull to silence for a moment. Apollo reaches up to scratch the clockwork bird and frowns when it doesn’t respond. 

‘I wonder what it would have been like,’ Heron takes a breath, ‘if Zeus had allowed my mother to take Seraphim with her.’

‘No. Don’t do that.’ The haste and force of Apollo’s reply momentarily startles Heron. ‘It will do you no good to dwell on impossible scenarios. He lived his life and you are still living yours.’

This makes Heron frown. This makes Heron a bit mad, if he’s being honest. He’s been working on it, but sometimes he can’t help the heat which infects his bones and makes him want to break something. He takes another breath. 

‘But we are all products of circumstance, yes? Seraphim was only made the way he was because my mother was not able to bring him with her. Had Zeus just—’

Heron had come to love his father in the short time in which he had truly known him for who he was, but when he imagines a childhood where he had grown up with a brother, a friend... he becomes so, so angry at him. His voice breaks a little.

‘Had he just been able to come with us.’

‘But he wasn’t. And nothing will change that. You cause yourself needless pain by thinking of it.’

And Heron hates to admit it but that is true. He takes one last deep inhale and does his best to let his anger melt away. 

‘Look at you, little brother. Angsting like a true protagonist.’

Heron rolls his eyes and Apollo laughs at him, but only a little bit. 

And then Apollo is standing up and moving across the cave to sit directly in front of Heron. He crosses his legs and stoops a little. Heron still has to crane his neck. 

‘So, brother. When you were sitting all by your lonesome on the bench you were thinking about your less than ideal upbringing compared to dwelling on Olympus, yes?’

Heron frowns. 

‘More or less.’

‘Am I right in assuming that you were thinking about how your mother deserved a better life?’

Heron frowns harder. He isn’t sure he wants to answer. The slowly widening grin on Apollo's face is not helping.

‘Yes…’

‘And here in this cave you began to think about the unfortunate circumstances of your brother's life and death?’

Heron thinks that he is probably frowning harder than he has ever frowned before. He is certain that he doesn’t want to answer. He does so anyway. 

‘Yes.’

Apollo’s grin is brighter than the sun. 

‘You,’ Says Apollo, tone entirely too smug, ‘were brooding.’

Heron gapes at him. 

‘That’s not—I don’t—’

Apollo interrupts him with a laugh.

‘Stop it!’

Apollo only laughs harder and although Heron is aware that Apollo is deliberately attempting to make him forget his previous train of thought he can’t help but join in a little. 

Apollo throws himself back onto the thick rugs lining the floor and slowly begins to sober. Heron just sits and watches him with the burn of embarrassment in his stomach. He doesn’t think he has felt this way before. The conflicting sensations of self-consciousness and the joy of laughing with someone making a mess of his head and tongue. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he wants to say anything. He allows himself to just sit for a few moments, staring at this god who is his brother, and revel in it. 

Apollo remains lying even when his laughs have puttered out. Heron looks away towards the patterned wall, self-consciousness winning out now that it stands alone. 

‘The mortals come to me for many things.’ When Apollo speaks, his voice is low and lacking in any of the previous lilts which indicated mischief. ‘They give me many names.’

‘One such name is _kourotrophos_. Child nurturer. They ask me to protect their boys until they reach adulthood. You are not a boy, Heron, but I will do my best to protect you.’

Heron is speechless and still staring at the wall. He can feel Apollo looking at him and forces himself to glance down. The orange glow of the room reflects in Apollo’s golden eyes and Heron is acutely reminded that he is speaking to a god. 

‘I… Thank you, Apollo. Although I am unsure of what I will need protecting from.’

Apollo frowns. 

‘Seraphim may be dead, brother, but his disciples are not.’

Oh. Heron looks down for a moment and then nods. 

‘No. I suppose they aren’t.’

‘You have much to do.’

‘Yes.’

‘This war is not over.’

‘No.’

‘Not for you.’

‘No. Not for me.’

And Apollo is right, of course. Zeus had believed that Heron would lead humans against the demons. If there were still demons in the world, then Heron still has a role to fulfill. Even if Zeus had been wrong about him, Heron doesn’t think he would be able to stand by with the knowledge that his own brother was responsible for the deaths of countless people. The responsibility to right the untold wrongs of his family fell to him because he was the only one left. 

The owl on the perch lets out a subdued hoot and Apollo sits up. 

‘Ah. It seems Hephaestus has noticed us. I am quite surprised it took him so long. Likely he was too engrossed in his work to notice his little birds twittering. I wonder if he will come up.’

Apollo gives a little wave in the direction of the bird. 

‘Would you like to stay here? See if we can meet with him?’

‘Oh, no. That is okay. I feel…’ Better is not the word that Heron was looking for but he cannot think of an alternative. He doesn’t even know when he stopped feeling good in the first place. 

‘I think I would like to return to the main courtyard now.’

Apollo nods and then waves once more at the owl before standing and turning to the exit. Heron follows. He keeps his eyes on the back of Apollo’s legs and wonders how someone can briskly saunter. 

They reach the hedge wall, with Apollo once again nonchalantly waving his hands to clear a path. 

It is when they reach the exit of the courtyard that Heron halts. Apollo takes a moment to notice he is no longer trailing behind. 

‘I would like to thank you.’ Heron’s voice is the strongest it has been since Apollo joined him. 

‘You tended my wounds and showed me a safe place to retreat to if I have need. You gave me words of advice. And of comfort. You cheered me.’ Heron finds himself momentarily stuck and has to take the moments to find the words. Apollo is quicker than him. 

‘So far all you’ve done is state facts.’ Apollo’s voice is sarcastic, though not unkind. 

Heron smiles. 

‘When I came to Olympus I did not expect any of you to be my siblings in anything but name. The fact that you have put effort into aiding me is—it’s amazing. I thank you for it, and your promise of continued protection.’ Heron braces himself for what he says next. ‘I grew up without my rightful brother. I never knew him. His likes or dislikes or anything. I would be… happy if you could share those things with me. And I with you. And it would make me happy if you were to tell me of ways in which I could aid you. I know I am not a god, but I hope you accept my thanks.

Heron does not look away from Apollo as he says this, and he is very pleased to see Apollo’s eyes widen in surprise and his mouth turn up in a smile. 

‘Well it’s not all good things. It’s not all,’ Apollo waves a hand, ‘Bonding and confiding and what not. I can be insufferable. Artemis can be annoying. Hermes can be insanely rude. Don't _even_ get me started on Dionysus and Aphrodite. Hephaestus can get so caught up in his gadgets that he forgets to wash himself. But, yes, I accept your thanks and I promise you—’

Apollo takes two wide steps forward until he is standing toe to toe with Heron. 

‘I promise you that, come what may, you are my brother.’

At his core, Heron is accustomed to solitude, but sometimes he can be very glad to have company.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure which brother I wanted go like, comfort Heron or whatever. Originally I was gonna make it Hephaestus, which is pretty bloody obvious lmao, but I wanted to incorporate the 'Oh haha. We're both twins. Neat.' aspect into it. I'm thinking I might write a follow up with Hephaestus because he's cool as shit in the show (from what we saw of him) and I like his little owls. 
> 
> I would have loved to incorporate Artemis into this bad boy, but alas she had like no screen time and I felt weird having to make up her entire character. Speaking of, idk how in character this, especially Heron, but with Apollo I was doing my best to steer away from the general pop-culture idea of him as 'Sex. Jock. Plays a mad lute solo.' I liked the bits in the show where he was friendly to Heron and Electra and also when he went out of his way to save Hermes and Dionysius. Thought that characterisation was pretty neat and kinda wanted to lean into it a bit more. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed I'm on tumblr @doublecheese if any of y'all have got comments or thoughts :)


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